


Left Unsteady

by Lyrishadow



Category: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 14:04:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16577909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyrishadow/pseuds/Lyrishadow
Summary: Choices are those things we hate to make, but you never know when that choice is life or death... a friend or your spouse?





	Left Unsteady

**Author's Note:**

> Please note this is full of spoilers for KOET, so please don't do this without playing your game.  
> From a prompt:  
> Unconscious/Unsteady Sentence Starters - "Do you need a hand...?"

Tiny whispers mingled with the night as the clouds threatened rain, Ly was hating her choices right now. The doubts ate her, and she felt like a piece of her was shaved away with every death, every loss.   
“I...can't do this..” She leant against the tree, she could still hear the celebration in the cantina, they had won but...at what cost? She longed for her days as just another bounty hunter, just another Mandalorian trying to find their fight.  
Her mind replayed Vette’s death over and over torturous trying to find a way it could have been prevented. In some of the replay Vette was replaced with Torian, and her heart broke even more. Could she have sacrificed him? Could she have lived with It? Had she saved him because of their relationship?  
“No..it's not... that simple.” Her voice was lost to the wind, and she gave in to feelings, trapped since Iokath, tears sliding down her face.  
She didn't hear him walk up - one of the few people in the galaxy that could avoid her detection, Torian knew her well enough that she would be away from the party. He sat down next to her near the tree his wounded leg carefully rested on the grass.  
“Do you need a hand….?” He asked finally, understanding how she was feeling.  
“I nearly lost you. Again.” Ly looked at her husband with concern and fear, not things she usually felt..  
“Still here.”  
“I might have to wrestle my way through all this…” she gestured towards the cheers coming from the Cantina.   
“You were forced to choose…” he said slowly trying to give voice to her doubts.  
“and I chose you.”  
“I'm sorry.” Torian lifted his arm as she moved closer.  
“This is not your fault.” She blinked “ I never wanted this job, all I wanted was…you, my ship and a worthy target.”   
He nodded as she leaned against him, taking shelter in his love for her.  
“Torian...She was a hero..a warrior.”  
“To the end.” He agreed.  
Vette had died and he had lived. It was these sacrifices, good people, bright people dying that gutted Ly, who had already lost so much before. She would never show anyone else this side of her.  
Shifting so he could see her face Torian lifted his hand and traced the path of her tears.  
“Cyare..” He murmured “ What can I do?” He had come to know the burden of leadership in their time apart, had come to see it for what it was - a heavy burden, with few joys, tough decisions that needed making. With the few who knew her well, and the few she could trust of her current companions Torian had kept a close guard on her downtime, trying to make sure his wife rested. Trying to find a peaceful moment for her to just be herself rather than the Alliance Commander.   
:”No.” she shook her head “This is my own battle.”  
His wife, the warrior, the Champion - she knew when to draw the line in a battle, and went to back off, and she was right, there were no words, no wonderful thing he could do, that would take this away. It was what it was, there was no avoiding the battle of emotions, the battle to stay strong. They had already paid for Vette’s life in Vaylin’s death - Vette and everyone else Vaylin had injured or killed in the last year. Ly’s battle was weighing the cost, and honoring the fallen.  
He took her hand in his and said the words he had been saying for her, but now for another:  
“Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la.” (*Not gone, merely marching far away.)


End file.
